All Together Now
by KatZen
Summary: Putting back the pieces of a shattered life and a shattered family was never going to be an easy task. Sequel to I'll Be Back Soon.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ****The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They belong to their respective owners. This is written purely for entertainment, and no monetary gain is made from this, more's the pity, because I'm a broke uni student, and I could use the cash. Any original characters that may pop up, however, are of my own creation, and do belong to me.**

**AN: The sequel to **_**I'll Be Back Soon**_**, something to fill in the gaps.**

**I know I said I wasn't going to work on two major pieces at the same time ever again, but I've had a recent influx of PM's asking me about the sequel. So, to satisfy the crowds, I'm posting. **

**I will give you fair warning, though; updates may be sporadic, as I do have another story to complete, as well as work and uni commitments (and they'll always come before fanfiction.) **

**Now, moving on, I hope y'all enjoy the first chapter of **_**All Together Now.**_

All Together Now

_Putting back the pieces of a shattered life and a shattered family was never going to be an easy task._

Stepping off the plane, and basking in the heat and humidity that crossed them, the two Tracy brothers headed for the nearest rental car desk.

"Wouldn't have expected Scott to move here," the elder of the two commented, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes and sweeping sweat-matted peroxide hair out of his face, fanning himself with his hand. "It's way too muggy, and I know he's not humidity's number one fan."

"Well, it's Scott. He does what people least expect him to do," the chestnut haired Tracy replied. "Remind me; how exactly did you find him?"

A sly grin from John. He was famous within the Tracy clan for being extremely good with computers, especially since he could hack into secured databases, gather information and get out of there before anyone could trace him. Firewalls stood no chance against him.

"What you don't know, little brother, can't hurt you."

They approached the front of the desk. A quick game of rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock determined that while the car would be loaned out under John's name, it was Virgil who would be paying for it, much to his discontentment. Keys safely placed in John's hand, Virgil armed himself with a map. Neither brother was too familiar with the layout of Hawaii, and Virgil being entrenched in old fashioned ideals, insisted on planning out the road trip with a hard copy map instead of a GPS system.

"Johnny, straight down the highway. I'll tell you when the exit is, but after that, you'll need to turn left, then right, another right and then left again."

John nodded in understanding, before marching out to the rental car, loading up the boot and strapping himself into the driver's seat. Virgil opened his mouth to protest, but John cut him off with a swift, "The car's registered under my name. I'm driving. Besides, this is a stick shift; you'd burn the clutch out before we reach the highway."

Discontent, Virgil slid into the shotgun position, crossed his arms over his chest and sulked, in the only way a twenty year old could.

* * *

"Remind me," John said, blowing his sweat soaked lock of hair off his forehead as he leaned against a wall in the apartment complex Virg and he had managed to sneak into. His t-shirt, however, had succumbed to the sweltering heat, as it was absolutely drenched in perspiration. "When did you learn to pick locks, Virgil?"

Slightly muffled, thanks to the credit card that was lodged between his teeth, Virgil replied, "What you don't know, big brother, can't hurt you. Now shush, I'm trying to concentrate."

John fell duly silent. A surreptitious glance up and down the communal hallway. It wouldn't do for them to be caught trespassing and subsequently arrested before they had committed the ultimate crime; breaking and entering into their eldest brother's apartment.

A slight grin from Virgil as he heard cylinders in the lock shift out of place. Placing his hand on the doorknob – it was surprisingly low, as was the lock itself – Virgil pushed the door open and stepped inside. Once John was inside, he closed the door, hearing the click as the lock slid back into place.

The apartment took John by surprise. It was definitely a masculine flat, minimalist in design – the leather sofa, flat screen television set and glass furnishing all attested to that – but there was something that didn't sit quite right with John. Scott, at 6"2', was a tall man, and he hated anything that was ridiculously low to reach. Everything in the flat looked like it had been made to cater for someone who was, well, a lot shorter than that. Possibly, probably, 4"6' instead.

"You're sure you have the right address?" Virgil hissed, heading straight for the fridge. Clearly, he had the same reservations John had.

"Yeah. This is what I got from the database."

"Here." Virgil handed John a water bottle he had found in the fridge. "I figured we could both use some hydration."

John gulped down the contents, grateful for the water, before moving to the bedroom. If there was any clue as to whether this was Scott's place of residence, it would be there.

Once again, everything was at a height that was ideal for a midget. The bedclothes were rumpled and unmade, something that was a pet peeve of Scott's. In his peripheral vision, John spotted a wheelchair. Doubt rose up inside of him; maybe Virgil was right, maybe he had gotten the wrong apartment.

But maybe he hadn't, for on the bedside dresser was a wallet. With a feeling of trepidation, John flipped it open, coming face to face with an identification card. This was Scott's place, no doubt about it. Cornflower blue eyes darted back to the wheelchair, and his heart sank.

_Oh no, Scotty, what happened to you?_

Backing out of the room, John nodded his head to Virg. "This is the right place."

A moment of silence, and each brother could hear muffled voices outside.

"John? What do we do?"

The decision – whether to flee or remain put – was taken out of their hands.

The door swung open.

John and Virgil came face to face with… empty space. Then they glanced down and saw Scott. He appeared to be frozen in the wheelchair he was sitting in. From behind him, another person in a wheelchair jolted Scott back to reality by asking a question.

"Scott? Do you know them?"

"Not anymore," he responded, eyeing them beadily, hand clenching down on the basketball that he held, as he wheeled himself over the threshold.

Tension shrouded the room, thicker than cold custard. The muscle twitched near Scott's left eye, a sure sign that he was peeved off. Virgil drew in a shaky breath, a sure sign that he was nervous, and if he admitted it, slightly scared of his eldest brother. Virgil was sure that there was no way Scott would throw a punch at his family members, so he wasn't worried about his physical safety. No, it was the look of disappointment, of hurt and betrayal Virgil could see in Scott's eyes that made him nervous. Sometimes, damning silence was worse than screaming voices.

"Sooo, I'm guessing we're not kicking back with a cold beer, Scott. Looks like you three have some stuff to sort out. See you next week, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, next week," Scott replied distractedly, eyes never leaving the brothers that stood in front of him. The silence that blanketed the room was broken as the door closed back into place and locked with a soft click.

"Scott?" John ventured, uncertain of what to say. So much about Scott remained as he remembered, and yet, so much had changed.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the cops on your asses."

Stunned silence.

"One good reason," Scott repeated, reaching for the phone.

"We're your brothers?" The response seemed incredulous.

"Then consider this your warning and get out! And if you trespass on my property again, I _will _call the cops and press charges."

"Virg, let's go."

Virgil didn't move.

"Virg!" John tugged impatiently on his sleeve. John was astute enough to know that they had pushed the wrong buttons.

"It was you I saw," Virgil said slowly. "You came to my place in Denver, didn't you?"

"It was a mistake. My mistake. I shouldn't have done it," Scott said coldly. "However, it will be your mistake if you don't leave. Now!"

This time, when John tugged Virgil's arm again, Virgil offered up no resistance. With one more hurt look shot Scott's way, Virgil closed the door behind him.

A soft, frustrated groan escaped Scott's lips once he knew they were away from him. He had carved out a nice life for himself, completely independent of anyone who had the potential to coddle him just because he was wheelchair bound. He was getting by on his own, no fraternal interference needed. Why did his brothers have to do this to him?

Life had been so simple for the eldest Tracy, but it seemed that circumstance had thrown a spanner in the works.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: see chapter one**

**AN: Thank you so much for the reviews - they mean the world. Apologies for not being able to respond to all of them - exam time at uni makes my brain a bit squiffy - but they are greatly appreciated. I'm glad you all enjoyed the first chapter, and you like this one too. It's a bit shorter than usual, but it sets the ball rolling for the rest of the tale. **

Chapter Two

Virgil Tracy huffed in frustration as he sipped at his drink in the hotel bar. John mulishly stirred his martini.

"He's such an ass!" Virgil spat out eventually, voice as bitter as the alcohol he was drinking. "Why is he doing this?!"

"Because he's an ass," John replied dryly. "Because, in the way his warped reasoning works, he thinks he's doing us a favour by not having to have a crippled brother. Because he's been independent for so long, and he doesn't want that to change. Because he's been the brother that looks after us, and he thinks it doesn't work both ways. Take your pick of any of the above reasons."

"I like the first one," Virgil stated categorically.

"Virgil." There was a note of harshness in John's voice. "Scott will have his reasons, and we may not like it, but we need to respect them."

"I just… I want to make him see that his being in a wheelchair… it changes nothing, as far as I'm concerned."

"Same for me," John agreed, downing his drink in one easy swallow. "But we need to think about it from Scott's point of view. Everything _has_ changed for him. He is a very different person now than he was a year ago, both mentally and physically. He needs to accept the changes, adjust to the changes, and all of that takes time. Especially with Scott; you know how rigid and inflexible he can be at times."

Sober silence fell easily between the pair.

"We'll try again tomorrow, won't we, John?" It sounded like a question, but Virgil's tone held a note of finality. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't giving up on reconnecting with Scott that easily.

"And much good it will do us," John scoffed, but that response said it all. Stretching to his feet, John placed his glass on the bar. "I'm going to go check in with Dad, let him know that we've had a wonderful first day here. I'm not stupid; I'm not going to tell him about the day's event. You'll let Gordon know we found him, Virg? Send him a message instead of calling – he may be on duty in his hydrofoil."

"Yeah, yeah, I will." There was a very pregnant pause, each giving birth to their own awkward pause. "Should I tell him about Scott and his paralysis?"

John nodded. "Gordon's in this deep with us, we might as well take him all the way. Alan's still in the dark, though, so make sure you tell Gordon to keep it on the down low. You know they share everything with each other, and we can't afford to have Alan upset Dad. If Dad knew what we were up to, he wouldn't hesitate to fly out here, handcuff us to his private jet and fly us back home again, yelling irately at us for the duration of the flight without drawing a single breath."

Having delivered his piece, John moved off to a secluded spot to make his call, while Virgil went to their shared room to brief Gordon of the situation.

* * *

The basketball bounced angrily off a wall.

How the hell had his brothers managed to find him?!

Another bounce.

He had been so careful; a life of solitude and seclusion was what he had adapted to. Everything he bought was paid for in cash only, just so he didn't leave behind a paper trail through credit and debit cards. He rarely, if ever, went out with the people he knew – the only exception being his weekly paraplegic basketball matches. He worked in a dead-end career, bagging people's groceries, the nondescript checkout chick. He should have been all but invisible to the rest of the world, which was just the way he liked it. The only way they could have traced him would have been through utility bills.

Scott sighed deeply. Looked like it was time for him to pack up and leave, just to have his persistent, pain in the ass brothers find him again.

Just when things were settling down for him.

Scott dreaded to think how his father would react if he caught wind that his eldest was still alive. His grandmother would fuss and fret over him, no doubt about it, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

A thought struck him; what if his brothers were calling their father right now? That was a whole can of worms Scott didn't want opened. Words had been exchanged thoughtlessly in the heat of the moment during their last conversation – well, really, it was an argument that had resulted in a stalemate – before Scott had been shipped out, and he had never forgotten the exchange. Now was not the time for his father to swoop on down to Hawaii to crow about how he was right.

_First things first, though_, he thought, wheeling himself over to his Datapad. _I need to get those locks changed from keys to a digit-pad. That should make breaking and entering harder._

The thought of John hacking into a central database to access his code flashed briefly through Scott's mind, but he pushed it aside. He would cross that bridge when he had to.

His brothers may have thrown him for a curveball, but it was time for Scott to take the steps in re-establishing the life he had built up for himself here.

* * *

The wind rushed through his hair, the water sprayed lightly onto the deck, and Gordon Tracy had never felt more alive. There really was nothing like racing through the water on a prototype hydrofoil when it was approaching 400 knots. Out in the Pacific Ocean, with his best mates on board, soaking up the good life really was the way to go; the only downside of his posting on the hydrofoil was that there was no pool, and Gordon was severely reprimanded and promptly put on probation when he had been caught trying to sneak a swim in the ocean. However he was redeeming himself, slowly and surely, through hard work and dedication to his job.

Inhaling deeply, Gordon slid from the outer deck back into the bridge. "How's it all looking, Skipper?"

"A-okay," the captain replied, not looking up from the instrument panel. "Engines are functioning like a dream. There's some instability on the fifth foil, but it's still in the normal parameters. How'd it look outside?"

"No debris in the water, as far as I could see. Not to say it can't change though."

"I know."

In the background, a klaxon sounded. It was time for a shift change, and Gordon was officially off duty.

"Brief Evans on what you've done this shift, and then grab yourself some food and sleep. That's an order, Tracy. I'm going to need you rested if you're going to lead a group in one of those experiments we've been instructed to do.

"Really?" Gordon was practically bouncing on his feet. "You mean it?"

The skipper eyed Gordon beadily. "Dismissed."

Elated, Gordon headed down to the crew rest area. This posting was getting better by the minute; he was on one the most sought after missions, most of his friends from WASP Academy had made it with him, and he was going to have an active role in testing out some of the latest and greatest technological advancements made to the hydrofoil.

After quickly filling in the person who was taking over his shift and grabbing whatever tasteless delight passed for his meal, Gordon reached into his storage locker and pulled out his vid-phone. Huh, look at that, there was a message from Virg. Gordon had inkling that it would have something to do with locating Scott – they had let him in on their plan, and Gordon would have liked to have participated in it, but sadly, even he couldn't defy the laws of Physics and be in two places at any one time. Instead, he had to settle for regular updates from his brothers.

Since he was on his own time, and he wasn't remotely sleepy, he had decided that he wanted to spend some time on the outer deck relaxing. It was there that Gordon would check the voice mail.

Only Gordon never got the chance to do that.

Just as Gordon stepped out onto the deck, a violent shudder ripped its way through the hydrofoil before it began to disintegrate, bits and pieces coming apart before his own eyes. Gordon, not holding onto anything, was catapulted straight into the air, a limp rag doll, before he plummeted into the water and hydrofoil wreckage, still and unmoving.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: see chapter one.**

**AN: Sooo, I may have left Gordon (and you, as readers) in a state of temporary limbo for a long time. You can blame the Mary Sue Plot Bunny for that, as well as INS. Not to mention uni work, which is what I should be doing instead of this :P**

**Anyway, another short-ish chapter, but still needed. Hope you guys enjoy :D**

Chapter Three

_Why do bad things happen to good people?_

Jeff had found himself asking that question time and time again. He was fairly sure he qualified as a 'good' human being; he had made several contributions to various charities, even when he was struggling with his own debt. He went out of his way to help people whether or not they asked for his help and that would become even more prominent once his latest pet project was started. Before, Jeff was impatient, and he couldn't wait to utter the words _Thunderbirds are go._

But all that had changed, thanks to the phone call that had shaken Jeff to his core. Gordon, his little water baby, was almost killed in the element he loved so much. He didn't know the details of what had happened – no one could give him that, since an official report hadn't been filed – but he knew his son was hanging onto life by a very slender thread.

Thinking of his fourth son reminded Jeff of his fifth, hopefully studying hard for his senior year at high school. Finals were coming up for Alan, and Jeff had promised not to disturb him unless nuclear warfare had been called and the world was ending.

_Well, I think this qualifies._

"Alan!" Jeff bellowed, causing the window panes to rattle. "Alan! My office! Now!"

The eighteen year old slouched his way into the room. Blond hair stood on end, a clear sign that Alan had been raking his hand through his hair in frustration. Physics had never been his forte, and Jeff knew that Alan had dedicated the afternoon to study it.

"What?!" Alan barked, unhappy at being dragged away from his work.

"Have a seat." Jeff gestured to one of the vacant chairs in his office and sighed. "There is no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. Gordon's been in an accident with WASP. He's being treated in a hospital on Hawaii, since it was the closest hospital to where the accident happened. He's in a critical and unstable condition, so I'm heading over there right now. You are to stay here with your grandmother until I know more."

"But Dad!" Alan protested, ashen face as he jumped out of his chair, angered at the unfairness of it all. "He's my brother! I have a right to be there!"

"Enough, Alan!" Jeff snapped, slamming his hand down on the solid oak table. With all his worry over Gordon, he didn't have the time or the energy to deal with one of Alan's inevitable tantrums over not getting his own way. Grey eyes pinned down Alan, forcing him to accept defeat and heed Jeff's instruction. "You are to stay here with your grandmother for the time being, especially since you have exams coming up. I don't care that they're just a mere formality, since you've already been accepted into college, you will still complete your schooling. If there's a change in his condition, you have my blessing to fly out to Hawaii straight away."

Alan swallowed, voicing both their fears in a small voice. "But what if he…?"

He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Don't you even think that! He's a Tracy and we damn well don't give up when the going gets tough. Gordon is _not_ going to die. I won't let him."

* * *

The waiting room was, quite possibly, the second worst room in the hospital; the worst room was the morgue. John wondered if he would have to go there later to affirm Gordon's identity, but he forced himself to push that traitorous thought out of his head. Waiting rooms, John decided, were there to foster the sense of inertia; logically, he knew that there was not much he could have done for Gordon, but at the same time, he was a man of action. He couldn't do nothing, but there was nothing for him to do.

From where he sat, Virgil crossed his legs again and chewed absent-mindedly on his Styrofoam coffee cup. Honey brown eyes, muted with pain, flicked up at the clock on the wall. Hours had passed, but it seemed that time hadn't moved at all. Virgil had always believed that no news was good news, but he knew that in this case no news meant that it could swing either way.

The frantic phone call from Jeff had sent them both into a tailspin, and they had abandoned their plan for a movie marathon and headed straight to the hospital where Gordon had been brought to.

_Looks like trying to get Scott back with us may have to go on the back burner, _ Virgil thought morosely.

Beside Virgil, John jumped to his feet. "Stay here, Virg. I need to go tell Scott what's happened. He and Gordon are the only ones with the same blood type; we may need him here for blood donations."

"And why the hell would he come for a family he's so determined to not be a part of?" The question was bitter, poison words dropping from Virgil's mouth.

"Because he still cares. Under all that anger and frustration, he still cares about us. He wouldn't have left you that photo if he didn't."

John moved to the door, just as a surgeon came into view. Bright red colour contrasted starkly against the light blue scrubs. There was too much red, far too much for Gordon to be alive, John thought.

"Doctor Marsten? What's the news?" Virgil curled his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. Their father may not have been there for the initial briefing, but Virgil knew his dad well enough to know that he would be en-route to Hawaii and would demand answers as soon as he tornadoed his way through the hospital doors.

_Better to be prepared to deal with the storm than get caught in the updraft._

"It was touch and go for a while, but we managed to get Gordon back with us."

John heaved out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"There has been severe blood loss and a mass of internal injuries. The next forty eight hours will be critical, and he'll be kept in ICU for that time."

"What's the extent of the injuries?"

"There's been pressure build up on his brain; we've drilled holes into his skull to relieve some of that -"

"Brain damage?" John interrupted, paling at the thought.

"We won't know the extent, if there is any, until he wakes up," the doctor responded delicately. "His ribs have broken; one rib nicked his spleen quite badly and we've had to remove part of it, his liver is severely bruised and there's swelling around his spine, especially where it's been fractured."

Virgil looked like he wanted to vomit. Not Gordon, this couldn't be happening to him. Gordon was at the peak of physical fitness; one hydrofoil accident couldn't cause so much catastrophe in one body.

"We've stemmed most of the internal bleeding for now, but we will, of course, monitor his situation. Right now, the thing we are most worried about is renal failure. Gordon's kidney functioning has diminished to the point where his left kidney isn't functioning at all, and his right kidney is functioning at twenty-five per cent of a normal rate."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means," the doctor explained patiently, despite the abruptness of John's tone. Deep down, he couldn't blame the young man; in his shoes, he would be exactly the same, clawing for all vital bits of information. "It means that we have him on a dialysis machine right now, but once he is more stable, he will require a kidney transplant to ensure the quality of his life."

"I'll do it," John volunteered. "He can have my kidney. Like it or not, Gordon is going to take my kidney and he is going to get better."

"And if you're not a match, he can have mine," Virgil seconded, nodding in agreement, fired up at finally being able to do something constructive to help Gordon.

"Mr Tracy," Doctor Marsten interrupted softly, addressing the pair of them. Before he could go any further, John cut him off.

"John," he corrected. "He's Virgil; Mr Tracy is our Dad, not us."

"Very well, then. John, Virgil, the first step is to get Gordon through the next forty eight hours. We'll take everything else as it comes along. It's just that we need to take it one small step at a time, for Gordon's sake."

Silence cloaked the room, a sombre reminder that all was still not perfect. But Gordon was still alive, only just, but still alive, and that was one giant leap in the right direction.

"Can we see him?"

"He's in Recovery right now, but we'll be moving him to ICU shortly. Once we've settled him in, gotten him comfortable, I'll send one of his care nurses over to get you." With a slight nod, Doctor Marsten left the room.

John sagged against the waiting room wall in relief, but that didn't stop Virgil grabbing him in a hug.

"He's alive," John whispered, silently thanking whichever divine force had kept Gordon with them. "He's alive, and that's all we could ask for."

John could feel Virgil nodding against his shoulder. "Hey, John?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's gonna tell Scott about this? You were incredibly gung-ho about doing it earlier."

John sighed deeply. Yes, he wanted to tell Scott, but that was before they knew the extent of the damage Gordon had sustained. Adding to the complications was the fact that Gordon would need an organ transplant down the line, and as Scott and Gordon were the only ones that shared the same blood type, Scott would most likely be the best match for Gordon. John wondered how Scott would take the news, especially since he seemed so intent on cutting all ties with his past.

Then again, maybe this was the catalyst Scott needed to realise that despite everything that had happened to him, he was still the same person to his family. John knew Scott well enough to know that Scott was a man that needed tangible reasons to reverse a decision he had made and stuck to. In that respect, he suspected Scott had taken after their mom; John could remember that both Lucille and Scott had trouble backing down from arguments, even when they were in the wrong.

"Together," John replied, giving Virgil a small squeeze. "We'll tell him together, once we've seen Gordon and Dad's here to stay with him."


End file.
